In the wind of the mind rises the Turbulence called I

It breaks down, showers the barren thought

All life is shocked, this desert is the abyss

Wherein is the Universe

The stars are but thistles in that waste

yet this desert is but one spot accursed in the world of bliss

Now and again travellers cross the desert

They come from the Great Sea, and to the Great Sea they Go

One by one they walked into the Land beyond the Stars,

Following the secret Pathways into Creation unknown

Guided by the forbidden Grimoires of Necromancy

They heard the Call of Cthulthu, loudly roaming in the Sky,

nonesome trembling from below

Spectres arose before them,

terrible Offsprings looked at them with their darksome eyes of Death

Only the pure shall pass...

May He who Tresspasses the void within

and masters the Spellcraft of the Necronomicon

descend into the Netherworld in all his Glory...